Paul Besancon

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jun, 2021

Stories (14)

14 Stories

287 karma pts

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“A Walk Among Death” by Paul Besancon

Submitted to Contest #206

Matthew brushed his fingers along the soft petals. Those black flowers with their deep purple stalks swayed gently in the breeze—a breeze he couldn’t particularly feel. No warmth. No cold. The gentle wind swirled around him, enveloping him in its comforting embrace. An embrace of curiosity. One questioning why he was there. The dark grey, purple and red clouds churned high above, dancing in a chaotic clash with crackling thunder. But just as the indifferent breeze around him, those harsh clouds brought no discomfort, no fear. A prick from a...

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“Stepping onto the Skywalk” by Paul Besancon

Submitted to Contest #206

The taste of vinegar soiled the roof of Jade’s dry mouth. No amount of tongue smacking would moisten her cracked lips. The harsh, Arizona desert heat wafted in from the open doors ahead of them, flooding over the throng of people standing in line. “All cellphones, purses, cameras and any other loose personal items go in the lockers!” one of the Hualapai tribe members yelled out over the loud crowd. Jade and her husband arrived at the row of cabinets, and the fear was growing ever deeper within her chest. Heart pumping and hands shaking, sh...

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“Windy Trails of Jalvern” by Paul Besancon

Submitted to Contest #204

The small village of Jalvern, was quiet—deceptively so. Residing in northern Starklevende, the jagged mountains dwarfing the little town from either side gave its deep valley an ominous whistle of wind that flowed through the damp roads, lifting skirts and disheveling hair. The sign out front of the tavern creaked and swayed with the gusty breeze, echoing its rusty cry across the buildings’ stony faces. The few denizens of Jalvern silently went about their morning business. Eyes focused on feet, rather than meet the gaze of passersby. Hardl...

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“Two Lives in One” by Paul Besancon

Submitted to Contest #203

“Rawr! I'm a tiger!” the little girl squealed, chasing her playmates around the large suburban backyard. The face paint, or rather warpaint, on her nose and cheeks shone those familiar orange, white and black stripes with whiskers. “Roaarrr!” the six-year-old giggled as she gently smacked one of her friends on the back. “Not so hard, Kaley,” her mother scolded the birthday girl. “She’s fine,” her dad said, bringing out the cups and plasticware from the kitchen. “They’re just playing around, babe.” A soft kiss on warm cheek. One of the mothe...

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“Worthy Partners” by Paul Besancon

Submitted to Contest #203

A killing blow. That moment the eyes go nearly white, looking to the heavens as if that’s where their soul is heading. Not this one, Deacon thought, nocking another arrow on his black bow. The enchanted runes glimmered lightly in its upper and lower limbs. With every draw, he could feel the bow’s power easing the resistance, focusing the arrow. Loose. The arrow flew straight, as it always did. Another caravan raider dropped to the hoof-trodden ground, face tasting that disturbed soil. “Ha! A pedigree, a pedigree!” Deacon’s partner, Jarek Def...

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“A Test of Two Killers” by Paul Besancon

“Well then,” Maryn smiled at Deacon from behind her frothy mug. The smell of honeyed mead never sat well with the black-skinned demon, but the mountain people of Starklevende adored the golden substance. “You certain you wish to seek out this man? The mercenary?” One of Maryn’s red eyebrows peaked, her grin teasing his motives. “I’ve spent many days traveling for that very purpose. So, where is this Jarek Defiler?” Deacon was a patient demon, but he had wasted enough time waiting in that inn, conversing with these three strangers. The you...

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“The Truth Behind the Lies” by Paul Besancon

Submitted to Contest #200

Deacon approached the quaint inn. It was early in the night, and his feet ached fiercely due to the long trek from the port. Never a stranger to ships, this particular journey was most inhospitable, causing a short bout of seasickness when crossing the stormy ocean from his native desert land, Kumoziko. But here he stood, in the coastal foothills of northern Starklevende. I will never get used to the cold air here. Fresh, crisp, but cold nonetheless, Deacon thought with a hearty shiver. It was fall season in the northeastern continent. A bri...

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“Deacon's Recruitment” by Paul Besancon

Submitted to Contest #199

Many years before the lavish feast at Lord Raymond’s court… Deacon stumbled through his home’s threshold—a thick wooden frame of ancient oak treated with scented lacquer and tree oils. Despite his decent wealth, he never kept an extravagant house. Why would one who spent most of his time overseas or in far off lands need a mansion to rot in the hot sun of Kumoziko’s capital? No, this small, quaint house was more than enough for the busy assassin. He kicked off his fitted leather boots, splashing coarse sand around the main entrance. Damn. ...

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“No Good Deed Goes Unpunished” by Paul Besancon

Submitted to Contest #199

Scott walked through his rainy neighborhood. It was near midnight and all the shops were closed. But those neon lights forever glowed on those dark, sullen streets, watched over by old apartment buildings and high rises off in the distance. The harsh barrage of rain on asphalt gave off that familiar musty, oily aroma that some city dwellers found comforting, despite the wet chill. But Scott just wanted to get home. After working a 14-hour shift at the warehouse, his feet were crying out for mercy while his back struggled to remain upright....

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“That's Our Tammy!” by Paul Besancon

Submitted to Contest #198

“Okay Tammy, do you know why you were called into my office today?” Mr. Laury, the principal of Sierra Primary Middle School looked at 12-year-old Tammy with a face of stone. His glasses sat comically on his round nose, one lens missing, the other heavily cracked. “Well…” Tammy looked off to the side, blowing an errant lock of red hair away from her bright blue eyes. She picked at her fingernails, the clicking sound echoing throughout the small, cramped office. “Was it the mouse?” “Among other things, yes.” “I mean, Sidney dared me to br...

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“Into the Looking Pool” by Paul Besancon

Submitted to Contest #197

“By the Heavens, she’s eating again! Curse this lazy miscreant!” Darcinian shouted into the Looking Pool, grasping its marble frame. The shallow waters of divinity glimmered and gleamed along the edges, yet the center was clear, as were the projected images of the earthly world below.“Yes, sire. Would you prefer a plague of boils? Chased by hounds? Or, perhaps something more innovative, such as everything she drinks turning to blood?”“What? No! I was being hyperbolic, not literal!”“Ah, indeed. Apologies,” Marquis nodded, scratching out the r...

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“The Waiting Room” by Paul Besancon

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #196

Eric watched them through the window. The night was cold, yet no breath fogged the glass when he leaned closer. That took some getting used to the first few journeys he made. Now, it was trivial. As always, the glass was dirty. She regularly teased him to help out around the house more. He kept up with the maintenance, but cleaning was never his forte. Still, he could have helped out more. One of many regrets. That was when he felt it. God damn hands. They were shaking again, but he never let go of the cylindrical key fob resting tightly in...

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“Jarek The Defiler” by Paul Besancon

Submitted to Contest #195

The hall is crowded. It’s always like Raymond to have such company in his court. Barons, duchesses, knights, mages, ambassadors of the dragon and demonic realms, and do I even spot a Hermonian wizard of all people? I've not seen one of their kind in decades…centuries, even? Lavish company indeed, Lord Raymond. I have no doubt they will be pleased with the feast and mummers. Raymond is no amateur when it comes to entertaining his guests. Evident in this positively intoxicating Sythian wine. Deacon’s black hand raised a jeweled cup to his lips...

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“The Unbroken Chain” by Paul Besancon

Submitted to Contest #151

This feeling. I remember this feeling. Cold. I remember it. It always made me feel alive. Alive? Am I alive? I am awake. The boy sat up, damp hair clinging to his neck. Reaching back, he realized it was his. Long. The cold from the wet concrete seeped into his exposed legs, giving him a vibrant chill. He didn’t mind. Despite the wetness in his hair, it swayed in the gentle breeze that swished around him, wrapping him in its cold embrace. He stood, patting himself down. Attempting to brush away some of the water, he realized he was wear...

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Author bio

Hello and welcome. The name's Paul Besancon, and I'm a writer who tends to focus on fantasy and dark fantasy. My goal as a writer is simply to entertain. Sure, my novels may have a message or point here and there, but there is a vast difference between a story with an agenda behind it and an agenda with a story behind it; I strive to avoid the latter. I'm not here to change the world, preach to the masses or push some sociopolitical agenda. I just want to put a smile on your face or a tear in your eye, depending on how we're feeling that day. My second novel, "Into the Mind of Pennywell: Plight of the Fallen" (available here: https://www.amazon.com/Into-Mind-Pennywell-Plight-Experiment-ebook/dp/B0955QRZ7G) is out for reading! This is the first in my "The Grand Experiment" series involving demonic forces entangled in the world of humankind. The two sequels are already written and currently in the editing phase. So give it a look! If you're into entertainment for entertainment's sake, take a gander at my free short stories in "The Grand Experiment" collection on my company website, 'Nocturnalrealms.com.' Contact me on social media and hopefully I can bring you a bit of an escape from your tough day. There's nothing more powerful than stories—for they outlive us all.

Shortlisted 1 story ⭐️

Contest #196

The Waiting Room – read story